Only me
by Misura
Summary: (I am ... the only one you will ever have.) [shounen ai[slightly dark]


Only me

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Warnings/notes : ?/? (shounen ai), slightly dark, oocness, major weirdness.

Disclaimer : I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh.

written at 5th march 2004, by Misura, for a challenge in the lj community anichallenge that required the use of the line "I am...the only one you will ever have", made by jadeemperor.

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He couldn't quite remember when he had stopped trying to batter down the door. Or how long it had been since he started doing it.

He couldn't quite recall why he hadn't given up before the skin of his hands had turned bloody and bruised, hurting whenever he touched something.

He had always been sensible, after all, and beating on a firmly closed door wasn't a very sensible thing to do. Not intelligent. Not like him at all.

What he should have done was patiently wait for his jailor to return. Surely, he could have ambushed him then, using some object in the room to knock him over the head so that he could regain his freedom.

A single moment would be enough. A mere second to sprint through the hated door, to the world outside. Where he belonged.

To be forced to stay in this room, small and suffocating, was pure torture, poisoning him day by day. (Had it been days since he had been shoved in here? Time seemed a rather slippery concept in this space where neither the light of day nor the dark of night was able to reach.)

Once, the concept of his opponent (yes, the boy was that now, loath as he was to admit that) doing this to him would have made him laugh. A good joke, he'd have called it. Utterly ridiculous.

Now, the sound of approaching footsteps was enough to speed up his heartbeat, his body tensing. He told himself it was in preparation of a fight. (Or a flight, if the opportunity presented itself. Not that he was a coward, of course, yet he was smart enough to know when to cut his losses and make a run for it. At least, he liked to think so.)

The door swung open. Yesterday (that was, if it had been a day since the last 'visit') he had made the mistake of trying to take his opponent by surprise, jumping at the door-opening.

Maybe that was why he had been acting the way he had afterwards. (But what had happened then? And why couldn't he remember? What was wrong with him?)

"Good evening." A cheerful voice. Deceptive. Like those friendly eyes. (How could he ever have been fooled by them, led astray by that mask of innocence without ever seeing what was behind it?)

"Good evening." He had learned a reply was expected, however empty. He wasn't even sure if it was really evening. Last time, the greeting had been 'good afternoon', hadn't it? Or had it been 'good morning'?

A beaming smile was his reward. Like he was some cute but bothersome pet (a puppy maybe?) that had just performed a new trick. The smile faded slowly, alerting him that he was doing something wrong. (What? What?)

"Aren't you going to ask me how my day was?" A prompting. He shouldn't have needed one. (Bad pet!)

"How was your day?" He felt like a parrot. Better than feeling like a madman, he supposed. Barely.

"How was your day, what?" More prompting. He recognized the game now, knew it had been played before. Didn't know, however, what he had done the last time.

"How was your day ... master?" (What a coward he was.)

"My day was fine, thank you. And how was yours?"

He lifted his head, discovering a sparkle of amusement in brown eyes. A sparkle in the darkness. Still, he wasn't going to lie, saying his day had been 'fine' too. (Did that mean calling the other 'master' had been speaking the truth?)

"Well?" A third prompting. Not good. (It had been stupid to hope for 'good' anyway. Stupid.)

Something was hiding in the darkness of those eyes. Something ... or someone. He wondered why he had never seen it before. Then he wondered if perhaps he had, and what had happened afterwards to make him forget about it again.

"My day was ... as usual."

"Ah." A nod. "Of course. Well then ... " -the door fell shut behind his opponent (where was the key? there should be a key somewhere)- "... I'm sure you're happy to see me. A nice change from your boredom."

He stepped forwards. He wasn't a coward, to shiver in a corner, waiting for the darkness to pass. Besides, where could he hide?

His body seemed oddly familiar with this stage of the ritual, while his mind kept wandering, noting small details. (Where was the key? Who was lurking in those doe-eyes?)

His hands buried themselves into soft, white hair. It felt like silk, until he reminded himself of where he was, of what had been done to him. He couldn't possibly find anything appealing about this.

Yet the lips that were pressed against his were soft too, tasting sweet, like innocence and purity. Maybe he should simply pretend, allow the illusion to drag him along.

"What are you thinking about?" He didn't need to open his eyes to see the pouting expression on the other's face. (Who was hiding in the darkness?)

"Why are you doing this?" His standard reply. Not quite safe, but safer than most. On most days, his opponent was amused by it. And he'd never been answered. As far as he could recall.

A shrug. "It's my right."

There. Simple as that. "You don't own me!" (Bad pet!)

"I am the only one you will ever have. I woke you up. You're mine, body and soul."

He shivered. The other's arms embracing him more tightly gave him no warmth. "No." He was whispering now. Maybe he'd be screaming soon.

A chuckle. "Well, you don't really have a body, of course."

"Ryou ... " (Very bad pet!) He'd made a mistake. He saw it, a moment too late. Names were always dangerous to use.

"You're my other half. You claimed I was weaker, but you were wrong. It took me a while to realize that." He was being petted now. He hated being petted. "It took me a while to discover I could be stronger than you ever were."

The eyes in which he gazed were all darkness. No more sparkles. No more hope. (Who was dwelling in that dark place?)

"My other half." A voice that crooned. A hand that softly stroke his cheek.

He stubbornly forced his mind to steer away from feeling. (Who?)

And then, like a flash of light, the answer came to him.

It was all so very clear. Logical.

Who else could it have been?

Who else could have taken possession of the boy?

Who else but ... himself?

He screamed.

OWARI


End file.
